


carry me home on your shoulders

by alexanger



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 04:50:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanger/pseuds/alexanger
Summary: four times he was there and one time he wasn't.





	carry me home on your shoulders

Alex scoops Philip up and settles him on his shoulders. “Time to go home, buddy,” he says to the five year old.

“No,” says Philip. It’s long and drawn out, a soft  _ noooo _ that speaks of a deep enduring pain and unspeakable suffering.

“The park will be here tomorrow. Say bye to your friend,” Alex tells him.

Philip waves vaguely in the direction of Theodosia. “Bye,” he says, and then a little louder he adds, “bye playground!”

Alex sets off in the direction of home, holding tight to Philip’s legs as he perches. “How was your playdate, mister Pip?” he asks.

“Theo doesn’t share,” Philip complains. He wriggles a little on Alex’s shoulders.

“Hey, be careful up there. You don’t want to fall and bonk your head,” Alex warns.

Philip giggles a little. “Yeah I do!” he says.

“No,” says Alex, “ ‘cause then you’d have a big bump and Mama would ask what we’ve been doing and why our little boy is suddenly lumpy.”

“Big boy,” Philip corrects.

“Big boy,” Alex agrees. “Too big to be sitting on Papa’s shoulders.”

“Noooo,” says Philip, and he kicks his legs a little. “Little enough for shoulders, big enough to bonk my head.”

“Why do you want to bonk your head so bad?” Alex asks him.

Philip thinks hard about that. “So I can have a big head like you,” he announces finally.

Alex can’t help it. He quakes with laughter and Philip clings fiercely to his head and says, “no shaking!”

“Okay, no shaking,” Alex agrees. He bounces Philip a little and says, “so Theo doesn’t share. What else happened?”

“Uncle Aaron gave us snacks,” Philip says. “But not good snacks like Uncle Herc does. Uncle Herc gives us good treats and Uncle Aaron gives us grapes.”

“Grapes are good. I like grapes,” says Alex.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a grownup and grownups are boring.”

“Ouch,” Alex says. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

Philip thinks about it. “Nah,” he says finally. “It’s true. Grownups don’t know what  _ good  _ treats are. Except Uncle Herc, but I think he’s a kid too.”

“You’re probably right, buddy,” says Alex as he turns into the driveway of their house. He lifts Philip down off of his shoulders and adds, “don’t tell Mama about Uncle Herc’s treats. You know how she feels about junk food.”

“I already told her,” Philip says. He grins in that goofy way only five year olds can. “She said she was gonna  _ talk  _ to him about it.”

“Oof. Your mama is fierce when she wants to be. I wonder how much trouble he got in,” says Alex. “Ready for dinner, big guy?”

“Ready!” Philip announces. He waits, bouncing on his toes as Alex unlocks the door, then races inside crowing, “Mama, I wanted to bonk my head but Papa said no!”

“Good!” Eliza calls from the living room.

Alex just smiles.

 

* * *

 

“Papa?”

Alex groggily murmurs, “yeah?”

Just like that, Philip is beside him, shaking his arm. “Papa, I had a bad dream,” he says.

“Gimme a second, buddy.” Alex sits upright and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “What happened?”

“There was a bad man in the house,” the eight year old whispers. “And he wanted to hurt us.”

“A bad man, huh,” says Alex. “I guess I gotta go bad man hunting.”

Philip grabs his hand. “Don’t, Papa. What if he’s really here?”

“Here’s the thing about bad men,” Alex tells him. “A lot of them are cowards, just like monsters. You remember what we used to do for monsters?”

“Tell ‘em you’re not afraid,” Philip mumbles.

“Exactly. And if there’s a bad man in the house, I’m gonna tell him I’m not afraid of him and I bet he’ll run away.”

Philip mulls this over. “I wanna go with you when you look,” he says.

“Deal. You can be my second in command,” Alex says. He climbs out of bed, forgoing slippers in the interests of stealth, and takes Philip’s hand. “Come on, let’s go check.”

The first thing they do is peer into the corners of the bedroom Alex and Eliza share, checking under the bed and in the closet. “All clear?” Alex whispers.

“All clear,” Philip agrees.

As they leave, Eliza mumbles, “don’t wake the baby.”

“We’ll be extra quiet,” Alex promises. The next stop is the nursery, where Angie is fast asleep. Alex holds a finger to his lips and gives the room a quick once-over. “Clear?” he asks.

“Clear!” Philip agrees.

Then there’s the adventure into Philip’s room, then both bathrooms, then the little office. Every time they check a room, Alex asks, “clear?” and Philip repeats it.

The first floor is next. Alex and Philip look through each room one by one, and by the time they’re finished, Philip seems to be in a far better mood.

“Well, if there ever was a bad man in here,” Alex says, “he turned tail and ran. They’re cowards, just like I said.”

“Yeah!” Philip agrees enthusiastically. “And you’re the bravest.”

“I’m not the bravest. That’s you, buddy,” Alex tells him.

Philip grins. “I’m brave when you’re around.”

“You’re brave all the time. Back to bed?” asks Alex.

Philip yawns. “Yeah,” he says. He and Alex trail back up the stairs and into his bedroom. Philip crawls into bed and Alex tucks him in and kisses his forehead firmly.

“Can you stay for a little bit?” Philip asks.

“Of course,” says Alex. He pulls up the rocking chair in the corner of the room and sits beside the bed, and Philip reaches out to take his hand.

“I love you, Papa,” he says.

“I love you too, Philip,” says Alex. “Go to sleep. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

Philip yawns again, then snuggles down into his covers. Alex finds himself drifting off as he watches Philip slip into sleep. He shakes himself awake a couple of times, then gives up and just lets himself doze off, still holding Philip’s hand.

 

* * *

 

A shriek rings out from further down the mountain. Alex feels his blood go cold. He knows that voice.

“Fuck!” screams Philip. If he wasn’t terrified, Alex would ask exactly why a thirteen year old is using that language - but there’s no room for that, something is wrong, and there’s no space for anything in his mind but tending to his son.

He skis as fast as he can down toward Philip, who is laying down, his snowboard sticking up and half buried in the snow. It isn’t until Alex pops out of his skis and runs closer that he realizes what’s wrong. His son’s leg is bent at an unnatural angle and Philip is sobbing, staring in horror at his broken limb.

“Oh, shit,” says Alex, and then louder: “Oh,  _ shit.” _

“Papa,” Philip wails.

“Okay, just stay calm, buddy. I’m gonna get you out of your board,” says Alex.

“Papa -”

“Shh. Just breathe. This is probably gonna hurt a little, but you’re brave, right?”

Philip’s eyes are huge. He scrubs at them with the heels of his hands, hiccups, and says, “yeah. I’m brave.”

“Good. You’re gonna just breathe through this, alright? Count of three and I pop your boots out. One - two -”

He pulls on two and Philip  _ howls. _ “I know, buddy,” Alex says. “I know. Get it all out.”

That’s when Eliza pulls up. “What’s happening?” she says, frantic.

Alex feels that panic too, but he chokes it down. “Pip got in a little accident,” he says as calmly as he can. “I think his leg is broken.”

“How do we find a medic? Someone to help -”

“I don’t think there is anyone. I’m going to carry him down,” says Alex. “The bottom isn’t far. He’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” says Eliza, and she takes a deep breathe. “Okay.”

“Can you carry our gear?” Alex asks.

“Yes, of course,” says Eliza.

“Okay. Philip,” says Alex, “I need you to sit up and put your arm around my neck.”

“I can’t,” Philip sobs.

“You have to so we can get you to the hospital. Okay? It’s gonna hurt, but you’re gonna be brave for me, right? My brave boy. Sit up now.”

Philip hauls himself into a sitting position. The screaming has stopped but the tears haven’t. They stream down his face unchecked as Alex tells him, “put your arm around my shoulders. I’m going to pick you up.”

“Is he going to be too heavy?” asks Eliza.

“Nope,” says Alex. “I’m the strongest man alive.” He’s thankful that it’s Philip’s lower leg that’s broken as he puts one arm around his back and the other under his knees, or he would have had to figure out another way to carry him.

“I’m ready,” Philip whispers. “I’m brave.”

“The bravest,” Alex agrees. He gathers his legs underneath him, then picks Philip up. It’s too much weight - for a moment he’s unbalanced and he’s terrified he’s going to fall down the slope - but after a moment of adjusting to the weight, he finds that his son isn’t as heavy as he’d worried he would be.

“I’ll meet you at the bottom,” Alex says to Eliza.

“I love you, Philip,” she says. She reaches out and rubs his back a little, the way she did when he was tiny and couldn’t get to sleep. Philip closes his eyes.

Alex starts his journey down the mountain. The snow is deep and it trips him up, but he plows through it. Every step jostles Philip’s leg and before long he’s moaning in pain, his face buried against Alex’s shoulder.

“It hurts,” he says.

“Let me know if you need a break,” says Alex. “But the longer we take, the more it’s gonna hurt. Think we can get all the way through?”

“Yeah,” says Philip.

“Good. Brave boy.”

There’s an ambulance waiting at the bottom. Alex sees the lights flashing and it spurs him on, makes him move a little faster. It isn’t long before he’s handing off his son to the paramedics and climbing into the ambulance with him. Eliza arrives at the bottom of the mountain, laden with gear, just in time for Alex to say, “I’m going to go with him.”

“Okay,” says Eliza. “Call me when you’re there.”

“Mama called the ambulance,” he says to Philip, wiping sweat off his forehead.

“That’s good,” says Philip, clutching fiercely at his father’s hand.

Alex holds on just as tight as they close the ambulance doors and pull away from the mountain towards the hospital. He thinks of Philip falling asleep clutching his hand. He thinks of how scared Philip must be, how much he must be hurting, and feels his heart swell with love for his son.

“I love you, buddy,” he says. Philip doesn’t say anything, just squeezes his hand.

 

* * *

 

Fifteen is a rough age. Philip spends more and more time alone in his room and Alex hears melancholy music blasting at all hours of the day or night. He wonders how much to push - he always asks how Philip is doing and usually receives a muttered “fine” in response, and he wonders if he should be probing further, asking more questions, trying to draw Philip out of his shell.

So when Philip comes home from school and asks, “Pops, can we talk?” he thrills a little. It’s a chance to get inside his son’s mind a bit, to see what’s happening in his life.

Philip leads them to his bedroom and closes the door. He sits on his bed and Alex sits on his desk chair, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “What’s up, buddy?” he asks.

“Um.” Philip scratches at the back of his neck. “So there’s this girl, and I really - like her - but I mean, I’m not … I don’t …” He trails off. “I don’t know how to put this.”

“Just go for it. Blurt it out before you can overthink it,” says Alex.

“I don’t know if she likes me back, and even if she did, I don’t want to do normal stuff with her,” says Philip, and he stares steadily down at his shoes. “Like, I don’t want to make out or anything. I just want to  _ talk  _ to her, and I think she thinks I want … you know. Normal guy stuff.”

“What’s normal?” asks Alex, and when Philip takes a breath to answer, he says, “no, I’m not asking what you mean by normal things. I mean, normal is fake. Nothing is normal. So you’re allowed to want what you want, and to not want what you don’t want, and if this girl is worth your time, she’ll understand.”

“But what if she hates me?” Philip asks. “What if  _ I  _ hate me?”

“I think the second part of that is more important right now,” says Alex.

“I think the first part is,” Philip insists.

“Things with this girl might not be forever. You have to live with you for the rest of your life,” Alex tells him. “So we need to make sure you can love yourself. All the parts of yourself. It’s okay to not feel like you want to kiss people. If that changes, then it changes, and if it doesn’t, then that’s super okay. Super normal. You’re not the only one.”

“I’m not?” asks Philip.

“I’m gonna give you some stuff to google,” Alex says, and he snags a scrap of paper from Philip’s desk and writes down the word  _ asexual. _ “And you’re gonna see that you’re not alone. And you can also talk to Uncle Herc about it anytime.”

“Does he feel the same way?” Philip asks.

“He has all his life. And you know how happy he is, right? So there’s nothing wrong with it. And there’s nothing wrong with  _ you _ .” Alex leans over and puts a hand on his son’s shoulder. “And I love you, and I’m proud of you for opening up to me about that. It’s not easy. You’re really brave and I admire you for being strong enough to tell me.”

Philip grins. “Is there anything I  _ don’t _ tell you?”

Alex smiles back and says, “well, it seems like these days you’re not opening up a lot, but I love it when you talk to me about your life. You mean the world to me. You know that, right? I love you so much.”

“I love you too, pops,” says Philip.

“Now,” says Alex. “About this girl.”

“You know what?” says Philip. “All of a sudden, I’m not all that worried about her. Can we watch a movie or something together?”

“I’ll take you out. Any movie you like,” says Alex. “Even if you want to go see one of those awful horror movies.”

“I want to see the one about the clown,” Philip says immediately.

Alex grimaces. “Just don’t tell your mother,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Bad men are cowards, Alex had once said to Philip. And God above, does he regret it.

There’s a weight on his shoulders. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling it.

Bad men turn tail and run, he’d said. Bad men are like monsters. At least that part was right. He muses on monsters and the nature of evil, and he wonders if, had he not said that eleven years ago, Philip might be -

The casket is mahogany. He knows this because the salesman said it several times. It’s lined with white satin. There are six handles. Herc and Aaron are on one side with him; Eliza and her sisters are on the other side. Eliza refuses to cry. He remembers her animal scream on the night Philip was taken to the hospital, and weighs that against the cold, proud face he sees now. He knows she won’t let a single tear fall until they’re home that night with one less child.

Philip was going to college. Philip was going to be a lawyer, or so he’d said. Philip had scholarships and a future and hopes and dreams. Philip had a sense of honour. And when the bad man had threatened him, Philip had stood his ground.

Alex wishes that, all those years ago, he had stopped his monster hunting with Philip to explain that you never argue with a man holding a gun.

He has the absurd impulse to stop them when they lower him into the ground. He wants to reach into the casket and pull his boy out and take him home, carry him home on his shoulders like he did when Philip was a child. 

Philip was still a child. A nineteen year old is a  _ child. _

He throws a rose onto Philip’s casket.

He wants to reach inside the casket and shake Philip awake, watch the colour return to his cheeks. 

There’s a bullet wound in his chest and another in his stomach. Alex wishes his boy had been a little less brave. He wishes he’d turned tail and run.

He wants to reach inside the casket and climb in himself and let the ground swallow him up. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. The dead nourish living things but there will be no trees above Philip’s grave. Nothing but grass. He wants to bury his boy in the forest and let the land make something useful of this tragedy.

He cries. Eliza won’t cry but he does, sobbing and clinging to her hand as Philip is swallowed by the ground.

His boy is lying in a box in the ground and all Alex can think is  _ if only he hadn’t been so brave. _

If only he’d been a little bit more afraid.

If only Alex had been there to carry him home.

If only.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos stem the flow of my tears. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


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